Dear Fang, With Love: A Love Story
by Moral Intensity
Summary: After FANG. After Fang leaves, the Flock is depressed. In a desperate attempt to contact him, Max begins writing him letters, never expecting them to reach him. However, she's in for a sweet or not-so-sweet surprise. T for language, please comment/fave.
1. Chapter 1

A/N – So I am so hyped about this FanFic because I am a lot more prepared and excited about it. It might seem like a play-off of _Dear John_, but that's not where the inspiration came from. Mainly, it was based off of _Pretty Little Liars_ – everyone has a secret, but the others don't know about it. Also, this story's quote plays a big role in the outcome of it:

"Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead."

I don't know where it came from, but it's in a catchy song. I put up a new poll that concerns my other story, _A Flock is a Family_, which I am debating whether I should finish it or not.

Disclaimer: I am writing on a fan's website, which the real author of _Maximum Ride _wouldn't want anything to do with.

_Max rubbed her forehead with her sweaty hands and wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her loose gray sweater. Picking up the pen, she finally thought she had the courage to complete the task she had been trying to do for days. Expressing herself; it wasn't something she did easily. But if she took the oath to do this, to finally write everything down on paper, then she could do anything. Taking a deep breath, she began to write._

Dear Fang- 6/20/2010

Screw you. I hate you. You suck. Go die in a hole. I hope rabid octopi eat you. May the force of death be with you. I want you DEAD.

These are all things that the Flock, people you used to care about, say daily whenever you come up in conversation. Mostly they come from the G-rated mouths of Angel and Gazzy, and sometimes Nudge, but the things Iggy and I say are far worse. We use language you would NEVER be able to use. You're such a wuss. A baby. I guess this tough, no-tolerance, bad-ass life is too hard for you. You were afraid you'd break a nail. Well, hear this, bub: I hope everything in your body breaks. Including your nails.

How does it feel to be so hated?

*Silence*

Okay, FINE; maybe we don't hate you that much. I mean, don't get me wrong; we're all furious. Iggy went into a crazy rage the other day, screaming about hoping your eyes would burn and that your skin would fall apart, bit by bit, slowly, so that the pain would kill you. Nudge had painted you a picture she was going to give you on the day of Total and Akila's wedding, but after you left, she stabbed your picture with knives. Yes, I did offer them to her. Gazzy writes long essays about how to kill you that only lunatics could come up with. And Angel, don't even get me started. I mean, she did almost overtake me as leader of the Flock, right?

Mostly we just miss you. Namely me. I cry hourly, and scream your name in hopes you'd come running, and dream about you kissing me passionately. I've tried over and over again to find out the truth, your big secret: why did you leave? I guess it's only fair to say I have secrets, too, a really big one, but I won't share it with you until you share yours with me. It's only fair.

I've been trying fairly hard to bring everyone back together by coming up with "family activities". Everyone is basically locked up in their rooms all day, plotting vengeance or your death penalty or, like me, crying. Last week, I finally had an idea that I presented to the Flock only yesterday.

"You want us to keep _journals_?" Iggy had said at my request. He, like everyone else, was stunned, and their mouths fell open.

"Yes," I said, standing tall. I mean, I am still the leader. I could do whatever I wanted. "It's a good way to express how we're feeling, and you must right an entry every day. When you're done, you give them to me so I can go over them." With that said, I gave each kid a Moleskin notebook I had picked up from Barnes and Nobles.

Flipping it over in her hands, Angel had smiled and agreed. Everyone else followed suit sheepishly.

"Now," I exclaimed, and clapped my hands together. "Just because _he _left doesn't mean we can't still enjoy each other's company and be depressed all day. I have big calendar," – I pulled out a monthly calendar I also bought – "and we're going to make a schedule. We each get a day, including Dylan and Total, and you get to pick what we do on each day."

Yes, in case you were wondering, Dylan still lives with us. He's been very supportive since you left, and has taken on second-in-command well. And yes (again), I do hope that makes you feel jealous.

After everyone was assigned a day, we picked out activities and I wrote down our weekly plan. Here is what it looks like:

Sunday (Dylan Day): Church at 10:25, Sunday brunch at Brick's Parlor, Church Youth Group at 5:00 (Dylan was created to be a Godly person.)

Monday (Angel Day): Lemonade Stand from 11:00-1:30, community carnival the afternoon, watch _WifeSwap _until bed

Tuesday (Nudge Day): Sleep in until noon, go shopping at the mall, ice cream sundaes at Cold Stone

Wednesday (Iggy Day): Trip to the bomb squad base, find their Top Secret files to (ILEGALLY) steal a bomb "recipe", purchase the (LEGAL) supplies at The Science Emporium (the ILEGALL supplies we get from a friend; "I know a guy," he says), build and blow up bomb

Thursday (Total Day): Leisure walk on the beach, picnic lunch by the shore, candlelit dinner (He's a real romantic after the marriage.)

Friday (Gazzy Day): Sleep (He's MUCH more mature than Iggy.)

Saturday (My Day): Go to the park, visit the library where everyone must check out one book, read for the afternoon, pizza and soda for dinner

The schedule was pretty much approved by everyone, and Gazzy agreed to be flexible with his insanely laid back day so that we could use it for day trips to the zoo or aquarium. After the meeting, the kids reported to their rooms with their journals to spend the rest of the day as they already were: in a depression.

You have pushed us to the limit, Fang.

With Love-

Max

_Sealing her heart in the letter, Max stamped it and addressed it WHEREVER FANG IS. Kissing it once, she ran outside to hand it off to the mailman that was already there. She didn't expect it to ever reach him, but it comforted her to have an outlet to express herself. _

A/N2 – If you want to make a account, music setlist, book cover, etc. for this story after you start getting into you, I will be immensely pleased. I'll even put your link on the top of my profile. Just give me the link to whatever you made so I can post it.

I know some of you may not think this story seems very interesting because of this first chapter. But I needed to start _somewhere_, so everything in this chapter was important.

Key points that will make a difference in the rest of the story: The Flock's death wishes for Fang, how Max has a secret, the way Max thinks Dylan has really stepped up to the plate as second-in-command, and the journals and calendars.

With Love-

JBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N – Thank you to those who faved and reviewed the first chapter of this story; this chapter is for you guys. At the request of Mia7474, I will make sure to let you all know what the Flock writes in their journals. And yes, Mia, it does remind me of Dear John, but my inspiration is from Pretty Little Liars, because Max and Fang are keeping various secrets from each other.

If you have any suggestions for the future of this story, please let me know. And don't be afraid to PM me . . . I only bite on occasions.

Disclaimer: I am very obviously not James Patterson, because I write differently than him . . . and I' pretty certain I'm a girl.

_Gazzy stormed into the house with stacks of paper in his hands, coming in from the mailbox. "Yes!" he yelled, waving a magazine in the air. "I got my next issue of _Explosion: For Kids_!"_

_Nudge snatched the layers of letters and various other mail materials and sifted through them._

"_Iggy, I think this is a restraining order from that lady at McDonald's you always flirt with," Nudge said, tossing him a think envelope with legal stamps. "This is an order form for a re-subscription to _American Girl _for Angel . . . Max, you have two letters."_

_Shocked, Max jumps up and carefully takes her mail. As the Flock wanders off to read their material – Nudge was ecstatic to get a birthday invite to Patty's party – Max reads the addressee information: one is from her mom, and another is from . . . no one? Frustrated, Max ripped it open and unfolded the three-page long letter. And nearly fainted._

Dearest Max, 6/23/2010

I am absolutely shocked that you would write me a letter after what I did to you. I want to apologize, but I know you would never accept it. I wish I could tell you exactly why I left; I know that the note I left you the day of Total and Akila's wedding simply stated that it was for the best, and it really is. But I can tell you no more.

Receiving this letter has brought me immense joy. Where I am living now is opposite of satisfactory. All I wish for everyday is that I can hug you, sit with you, eat tubs of ice cream with you . . . just like the good days. I had a dream last night that I was lying in my bed at home, and saw you standing over me. I was about to lunge forward to hold you, to make sure it was really you, when you suddenly burst into tears and dashed from the room.

As far as your secret goes: I completely understand. I mean, why would you begin to trust me again after I left you? I reassure you that you will be happy after so long without me; I don't deserve you, and you deserve better. Namely one person in particular, but I'll let you figure that one out for yourself.

The moment I got this letter, I brought it to the middle of a forest. It's so beautiful, with a creek running through and a spring in the midst of the thick trees. I love to rest on the high branches and bask in the sun. I had to read your letter over and over again before I managed to write you this. I wanted to say the perfect things, and not leave a single topic out.

As surprising as this sounds, I was so happy to read that you guys wanted to kill me. I am feeling quite . . . depressed lately, and I know it's because I miss you. I can't stay away from you . . . mentally, at least. So if you ever wanted to come and murder me in my sleep, I wouldn't disagree because of how sad I am. Plus, if I heard you were all still hoping that I would come back, I wouldn't be able to contain myself and would have to come home. And then we'd have to go through this all over again.

It's so creative that you're making the kids write in journals and follow the calendar. If I had a day, I would revolve the activities around us. You and I. We would go to your favorite restaurants, and walk through gardens of roses, and kiss under the stars. If I were in charge, I would have us get married right now. I love you so much.

I realize that I'm not helping you through this. But, in all fairness, you're not helping me either. I was so close to walking through the front door to see you all when I first received your letter, and I admit I burst into tears. It was all so overwhelming: I have you trying to contact me, and then my own personal problems out in the real world. I hate living around normal people, and I was just so _happy _to be able to have a way to get through to you. The key is letters.

With no money to live with, I had to get a job. Using my talent of lying, I said to the big bosses of Mackelsons Inc. that I was 25 years old and had a high talent in making brochures and business flyers. I am now the head of the organizations commercial wing, and make enough so far for a run-down apartment. After working so long, I should have enough to move somewhere nicer, as I earn a salary of $125,000.

My apartment is moldy. It has a little bug problem. The curtains and sofa are moth-eaten, and I have to sleep on a blanket on the floor before I can afford a bed. I borrowed a suit from my landlord to wear to work, and that's pretty much the only other thing I have to wear besides the clothes I brought with me. I do, luckily, have running water, and, even though it's cold, it's something to shower in and wash my shirts and pants with. I have to eat food from the local burger joint next door, with $0.50 cheeseburgers and free boxes of fries. Hopefully, I can someday pay to eat somewhere a little nicer.

Don't worry; I'll take care of you guys, too. I'll send you monthly checks to care for yourselves, but all I ask is for one thing: don't tell the others about our exchanging of letters. And don't tell them where the money comes, when you get it. The last thing I need is a circle of hope enclosing your house, my old home, and I wouldn't be able to stand the guilt. And please, _please_, never ask me to return. I swear to you, everything will turn out okay.

Know that I constantly think of you, and won't rest until I get your next letter. I have to end this quickly because I must get to work. I spend all day at the office (WOW, I never thought I would say that phrase) in order to survive in these tough times (not that line, either). I wish you the best, and can't wait to hear from you again.

Best Wishes,

Fang

_Max was bawling by the time she finished it. Fang sounded so sophisticated now, like he didn't need her. And she was also sad that she couldn't ask him to come back without him getting frazzled or mad. But she was wondering why the letter was dated for that same day; don't letters take a while to reach the person they are addressed to? With her own secret weighing heavily down on her, Max trudged away to find more paper and a pen._

A/N2 – Quick question: what were the false names the Flock used when they stayed with Anne? I might need that information in the later chapters. Thank you for reading, and please comment, fave, and do my poll. If random lines have showed up in this chapter, just ignore them. Word is going crazy with me. And please do my poll; I am in desperate need for your thoughts on the topic.

With Love-

MI (I changed my username.)


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